


Chromatic Dissonance

by CavalierConvoy, skidblast



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, References to Canon, reference to interrogation, reference to violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skidblast/pseuds/skidblast
Summary: Doubt in the Decepticon cause had long since set in, and the Irregular recon squadron of EK074 are on notice. One last test has been assigned to their squad commander: the infiltration of an Autobot research and development facility, poorly defended and severely understaffed, in the Fomalhaut system. Success is guaranteed for the efficient, tight-knit squadron.There was just one snag: their intelligence was bad from the start.





	1. Under the Radar

"Under the Radar"

Fomalhaut System  
~ 560 l.y. from Lambda Scorpii System  
1450 stellar cycles before Vector Sigma's Pulse

_  
Why do I keep agreeing to these missions?_

Irrelevant; Artemis took the missions because he had little choice. Sometimes he could pull Starscream aside in private to voice his concerns - a weapons research and development facility on Dagon, an Autobot-controlled planet in the Fomalhaut system. There had been barely a decacycle between the intel of the facility reaching Decepticon Command and deployment, a so-called science team to infiltrate and acquire any intelligence and prototypes.

_Meaning raid the place clean._

By the time they reached orbit around Dagon, Artemis couldn't hold his glossa, and, once Starscream called him and Thundercracker to the cockpit for a briefing, the sole grounder pointed out the lax security.

“Under the radar," Thundercracker muttered, studying the data on his 'pad. "No time to set up an active security protocol."

"A smaller facility means harder to detect," Starscream added, pulling up a layout of the complex in question. "Thundercracker, lead your squadron to carpet the perimeter. Artemis, take the containment crew and sweep the base. Once the Autobots are subdued and processed, we'll bring in the sappers to clean out the facility."

Planetfall was uneventful, which bothered the blue-black mech further. There had been no resistance. Artemis en route had sent a private message to Starscream regarding the possibility  of an abandoned base, until they were five kilometres from the facility. Thundercracker's squadron made short work of the aerial patrols by the time they had reached the outer gate.

“Give me some intel,” Artemis hailed Thundercracker, directing his squad to cover both entry points and sniper positions. “What are we up against?”

<<Minimal resistance,>> the flyer harrumphed. <<I’m calling it in. This is either an outpost on the way out or a trap.>>

“Agreed. Run thermals, keep me posted. Roadside,” Artemis beckoned a two-tone brown mech, a head shorter than he but twice the girth, “lead the primary corridors, sweep for IEDs; Astrados, Brontes, flank him. Lockstock, Magazine, maintain surveillance from your vantage points. Gunrun, Skaði, with me.”

Once in the courtyard, the ordnance crew made short work of stragglers. Following the larger heavies, Artemis and his group - the midframes of the squadron, all purpose units specialising in search and retrieval - entered the single-level compound, rifles at the ready.

<<Nothing here, boss,>> Roadside transmitted from deeper within the building. <<Not liking this.>>

“Me neither; you and your boys maintain the perimeter. Skaði, locate the command hub, pull the hard drives, hard copies, anything that isn’t nailed down. Gunrun, watch his five. Magazine, how’s it looking out there?”

<<Quiet as a grave,>> the sniper muttered. <<Sounds like the commotion is mostly aerial, and even then it’s skirmishes.>>

<<Had some runners on my end,>> Lockstock interjected. <<They ain’t running no more.>>

“Where they armed?”

<<Standard issue; nothing special.>>

“I’m checking their medibay,” Artemis transmitted, private frequency, to Skaði. “If it’s ransacked, we’ll know if this was abandoned.”

<<Roger that, Commander,>> Skaði agreed.

Bracing his carbine to his shoulder, Artemis stuck to the wall, scanning the corridor en route. The  medibay was sparse, barely stocked as an EMT station, with a single operating slab amidst three smaller recovery cots.

“Oi, Starscream,” he hailed, “you certain the intel was sound? This looks more like a science station than a weapons depot.”

<<I’m questioning it as well. Still, sweep the base, rendezvous back to the ship in one megacycle. We’ll append our exit strategy once we review the data.>>

“Understood.” Killing the call, Artemis circled the operating slab, shifting his weight and listening for telltale creaks for caches. Nuke was a common enough stimulant to smuggle, and medibays were ideal for hiding stashes for long term holdouts. There were a couple of possibilities; Artemis dropped a spent casing at each point to mark for further investigating before approaching the supply room door, while keeping the markers in his peripheral. Muting the chatter across his radio, the blue-black mech listened close to the door for footsteps, a jacket sliding, some idiot chambering shot - nothing.

Wait.

A shuffle, not the practiced movement of a soldier, but the trying-to-be-as-quiet-as-possible-but-gotta-get-the-hell-outta-there clamour of someone without battlefield experience.

Still.

Keeping his guard up, Artemis crouched, struck the door glyph, and pressing against the jamb, counting to three to wait for inexperienced fire; none came, and he rolled against the jamb into the room, barrel of his carbine tracking possible hiding spots.

A lone Autobot, blue and orange with an offroad exploration alt mode and a half-head shorter than him, froze with a low keening, hiding his face.

Noncombatant. _Damn!_ “Knock it off and tell me where your Arr-and-Dee is,” Artemis hissed.

The mech sunk to his knees, now venting hard.

Artemis’s basic training from police academy from all those stellar cycles ago came back, hard. Civilian bystander, reacting to a hostile situation badly, edge of a panic attack; useless, unpredictable as hostage, unreliable as a witness. Get the situation under control.

Had he been back in Rodion, Artemis would have left it for his partner to deal with, going after the suspect.

The larger mech stepped forward; the Autobot cringed away, whispering...nonsense.

Shock. _This wasn’t a weapons depot!_ “Quiet,” he ordered, chambering his carbine against his shoulder. “Listen sharp: you gotta rein it in. We got bad intel; this was supposed to be a weapons depot. Shh!” Sending an intrasquad message - _Found some cubbies; too small to be foxholes. Maintaining silence_ \- he killed his radio and grabbed the mech by the arm, shoving him into an open locker. Keeping an optic on the door, Artemis removed a handgun from his holster and held it out, butt first. “Safety’s on the right. Anyone asks, you found it.” Ascertaining the Autobot was in no way interested in the firearm, Artemis vented, placing it by his right hand. “Be silent, stay low, stay alive. Two megacycles, then get your aft outta here.”

With that, he shut the locker door before exiting the storage room. Resuming radio communication, a transmission from Skaði greeted him. <<Apologies, Commander,,>> was the reply. <<Mostly weather readings, solar studies. This isn’t even worth the raw materials.>>

<<Sonar and radar is picking up nothing,>> Thundercracker added. <<The place doesn’t even have a basement.>>

<<Sir, it’s a weather station,>> Skaði reported. <<Some Exodus-era data indicating an attempt to cyberform the planet, but its EM field was wreaking havoc with the equipment. Otherwise, there’s no subspace communications, no weapon details, nothing.>>

“We got bad intel,” Artemis growled. “Squadron, return to rendezvous. Starscream, what’s the word?”

<<This is a waste of time. Raze the compound; there’s nothing here.>>

<<Hello, waste of ammo,>> Thundercracker retorted, beating Artemis to the comment.

<<Fine. Take what’s not bolted down and let’s get out of here. I can’t stand failure.>>

“Who fed you the intel?” Artemis questioned as Roadside and his crew exited the compound, Brontes in vehicular mode carrying an industrial server inside his canopy bed.

<<Classified,>> Starscream scoffed. <<But between you and me? I bet Shockwave’s behind this, wanting to make me the fool.>>

“Can you find proof?” To the ordnance mech, the squad leader questioned, “Where’s Gunrun and Skaði?”

Before Roadside could answer, a rapid fire crack, followed by the heavier retort of carbine fire, rang out. Fifty clicks later, the midframes emerged, Skaði with a kit full of hard drives. Gunrun followed, laden with a single duffle over his shoulder. “Sorry, boss,” he shrugged. “Found a little glitch in a locker, trying to play the hero. His aim was slag lousy.”

Artemis had little chance to react, as a private ping hit his radio. <<Noncombatants,>> Thundercracker rumbled. <<A whole basement full. Now that’s a waste of ammo.>>

 


	2. Choose Your Masques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quartex after the Dagon mission, the incident filed away in some forgotten recess of memory, and it's business as usual for Artemis and his squad. 
> 
> Except that Starscream has other plans, and while those he claims as pawns see through his deception, it's too late to back out.

Choose Your Masques

*

 

Oribtal Station Caelestis, now under Decepticon control  
Upsilon Scorpii  
7 l.y. from Lambda Scorpii  
~1 quartex after Dagon Station Conflict

  
  


"You need to make yourself scarce."

Artemis looked up from his inventory, brow arched, as Starscream approached with all his pomp and circumstance.

"Ten cycles ago. I just received a report from R and D; they’re calling for volunteers and I don’t want you part of it."

"What are you talking about?" Artemis demanded, but already in crisis mode, mapping out his escape from the science station they had claimed for the Decepticon cause.

"Thundercracker will fill you in; I have given him orders to escort you to the way station in the Sargus system; from there you'll meet up with Darxtar."

"Darxtar?" There was a name Artemis had not heard in millennia. "Starscream, I don't understand — "

"The combiner project," he hissed, grabbing Artemis by the shoulders, his face close to the grounder's. "Thunderwing’s been assigned to reopen the research and development, and he’s is 'asking' for volunteers. Loyal, skilled, but in his mind disposable. You are on that list. I want you as far away as possible. Megatron has given him the authority to cull the ranks."

"One list for another," Artemis hissed. "I go rogue — "

"I will take care of that," Starscream reassured. "You will cease to exist. You'll not have to worry about Tarn and his goons. Artemis — " the Vosnian's tone softened, "Arty, you wanted out, here's your chance to make it out alive. I agree, it's not the cause we had once believed in. I will do everything in my power to make it right, and while I still have Megatron's audio receptor, there's a chance…but if he gets his way…if he gets his hands on you…no, I can't risk you."

"What about my team?" the black grounder questioned.

Starscream smiled, almost fondly. "Roadside is due for a promotion, don't you think? He's always been a devoted second to you. I will make certain they will continue to perform to optimal conditions."

"But what will you tell them?"

"The truth: mandatory volunteering. A posthumous promotion, perhaps?" Now Starscream cupped Artemis' face with both his hands. "I will come back for you, I promise. I will grieve, yes. How tragic for one to lose both their conjuges! But you will as you always have been my proudest and most devoted companion, and you will do as you always have done: survive impossible odds."

Too many questions, but Artemis held his tongue. Instead, he settled on "they're a loyal team. Don't mistreat them."

"I would never do such a thing," Starscream pressed his brow against his companion's. "They are dear to you, as you are to me. They will be my esteemed honour guard."

Artemis shuttered his optics, leaning into the gesture. "I'm gonna wager I can't tell them goodbye."

"That wouldn't be a good idea, now, would it?" the Vosnian shook his head. "We will see one another again, I promise." Pulling away, Starscream gave the Iaconian a once over before bowing his head, lifting a hand to his face. "I — I don't want this to be farewell. But — Artemis, take only what you can carry and go, before I beg you to stay."

"Stay alive, flyboy," Artemis whispered, brushing past Starscream, locking optics with Thundercracker, standing in the doorway with a stoic expression on his face.

"And to you as well." Starscream's voice wavered, and he crossed the room, to the opposite door.

The blue and white flyer matched Artemis's gait as they left the building, towards the hangar. Once outside, Artemis muttered, "A bit melodramatic, even for him. What is he planning?"

Thundercracker harrumphed, a deep, resonating sound from deep within his chest. "When isn't he trying to curry Megatron's favour?"

"Then what's the real reason he's dismissing me?" Artemis demanded.

The flier shrugged. "There's truth to Thunderwing’s project; he’s already got something in development. But if you ask me? Screamer's hedging his bets, banking his assets."

"Is that all I am?" Artemis pondered, more to himself.

Thundercracker frowned. "That’s all we all are, now. Assets or liabilities." 

"What happened to us?" Artemis hissed.

"You and me?" Thundercracker shrugged again. "Starscream? Hard telling. But you and I both know that what Screamer wants, Screamer gets. And if he doesn’t get it, he’ll use whatever means possible to get it."

Thundercracker's wording was intentional. "He wants Megatron's favour to himself."

"He wants  _ you _ to himself." Thundercracker cast a simmering gaze from his peripheral to the grounder. "You and everyone else he has fed that same line to. He wants an entourage of loyal, competent subjects at his beck and call, and he wants to be Megatron's favourite in the process."

They remained silent as they boarded the hopship, Artemis taking the nav board as Thundercracker, the pilot's.

"I'm surprised you're not pissed at me," he rumbled.

"How can I be pissed when you're right?" Artemis scoffed. "I can always count on you to tell the truth, even when  _ he _ won’t." This, he delivered softer, as though considering the chance of being overheard.

"Then while we’re on the subject, why have you allowed this to go as far as it did?"

Artemis frowned. "It gets to the point where you just have to lay down and take it if you want to see the next sunrise."

Thundercracker vented, air whistling through his dentae. "How long have you felt this way?"

"I could ask you the same thing. When was the last time you did any writing that wasn’t field reports?”

Thundercracker vented hard. “ _ Touché _ .” 

“I don’t even remember what I enjoyed doing before the war.”

“You were on the debate team at the Academy. You liked reading - mostly layman’s books about subjects others were talking about so you could follow the conversation. You asked questions. You weren’t afraid to use your privilege to speak up against Functionism.”

“I’m impressed you remembered that.”

“I took investigative journalism as an elective. I also remember you put your all when you get close to someone.”  

To this, Artemis said nothing.

"That's what happened, Arty," Thundercracker sighed. "You got too close to your team. Especially Skaði. Even if there's nothing between you two, Screamer doesn't see it that way. It's a liability."

Artemis maintained his silence.

"Camaraderie is a liability," Thundercracker continued as they lifted off. "You may still have a use to him, but it isn't what it had been before the war."

"I'm well aware of that," Artemis growled.

"You may be aware of it, but are you accepting it?"

"Gonna have to, aren't I?"

"Still," the flyer muttered, engaging the FTL, "Darxtar is no friend of Starscream, and vice versa. Arranging this transfer is…unusual." He regarded the frowning grounder to his right. "Y'know, Arty, maybe it's because you remind him of what he had before the war? When he was happy? Maybe he's protecting the one connection he has left to that time before everything went to hell?"

Artemis caught Thundercracker's gaze, expression stoic.

"Yeah," the blue and white flyer groused, "I don’t think so either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cav here!  
> And, like that, a ship that had sailed for over 20 years is finally getting the burial it deserves. 
> 
> I show this as a testament that Artemis has had a history of making bad decisions. And that 20 year old me really needed to listen more to their art peers, but that's moot now.  
> I'm not even certain I've ever showed this picture to Skidblast.  
> 


	3. Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surviving members of EK074 are in over their heads: their squad leader presumed dead, the Sky Commander taking out his ever-rising frustration on them by sending them on a punishment mission to investigate a possible energy source in the Flaming Star Nebula, and general morale is in the bilge. 
> 
> But Skaði has a hunch, much to Roadside's chagrin.

Leverage

 

Decepticon Interceptor Scout  _ Edge of the Knife _

Halfway between Capella and Flaming Star Nebula (“The Middle of Fraggin’ Nowhere”) 

~ 20 stellar cycles after Dagon campaign

 

_ “‘Oh, a bonny lad awaits for me, o’er the starwashed shore! A shame, poor lad, a beaut you be, but my spark has wandered yore!’” _

“If Brontes doesn’t shut it in five clicks, I’m going to shoot him.” Roadside groused, haunched over the pilot board, glaring at the fuel gauge that bounced around the halfway mark. He tapped it with a thick digit; it dipped to three-eighths. 

“If you do, avoid the joints. We’re low on hydraulic fluid,” Magazine advised, sipping the beverage he had been nursing since the Capella waystation. “And you know you’ve been needing to replace that gauge since our last mission.”

“Low priority!” Roadside barked. “It’s fine; we can switch to the fold engines to get back. Always keep them warm for that reason.”

_ “‘I yearn for the sky, lust for the stars, that sing my name so sweetly! Alas, dead lad, a rival you be, in those galaxies set before me!” _

“Yep, that’s it. ‘Zine, take the board.” Unholstering his sidearm, Roadside slid the jacket into ready position.

“If you will focus on the mission, Roadside,” Skaði chided as he poured over the streaming data on his consoles, “and not the maestro's singing, we can complete this without complete depletion of resources.”

The squat mission commander groaned, shoulders slumping as he replaced his sidearm.

“Safety’s off,” Magazine warned.

“Better that way.”

“Shall I give my report or have you succumbed to existential nihilism?” the bronze and gold Seeker demanded.

“Yeah, frag it, just speak loudly so I don’t hear that thrice damned shanty for the seven-thousandth time.”

Skaði allowed for a five click silence before resuming. “According to the initial survey supplied by Sky Commander Starscream, this lost colony is radiating colossal energy levels within our target area. Referencing historical data from previous missions matching similar criteria, including one submitted by Sub-Commander Thundercracker regarding his last mission under Titan Mission Commander Bludgeon’s command, the probability of this leading to a Titan is enough to warrant an investigation.”

“Almost nil as opposed to nil.” Slamming his elbows on the console, Roadside cradled his head. “I saw that report, too. Thundy’s ‘hunch’ didn’t pan out and he got axed from the project.”

“The Sky Commander believes otherwise,” Skaði corrected, pulling up a file and sending it to Roadside’s console. “Giving the Sub-commander’s history with the Sky Commander, the Sky Commander believes that the Sub-commander withheld information from the Titan Project Commander. Hence why we have been sent to follow up on these readings.”

“You don’t have to be formal all the time, Skaði,” Magazine reminded. 

“I’ve ridden with him long enough to know something’s up.” Roadside flicked his hand at the console, closing the file without looking at it. “We’ve been sent way into the Aft-Scraplet region of the West Clusterfrag system in a ship that was never meant for long distance hauling. Even reserving our fold engines until absolutely necessary, best case scenario, we’re limping back to Capella at sub-light. How does the High and Mighty Sky Commander Glitter Aft think we’re getting back?”

Skaði focused on his own console, executing a find function in his equations. “We will syphon fuel from the colony ship’s reserves once we secure the data. There are also evidence of heavy neutrino concentrations that indicate a dormant spacebridge, of which we are to confirm its existence and reestablish a link with the closest Decepticon outpost.“

Roadside glared at the Seeker for a full cycle. “You do realise,” he punctuated every syllable, “that this is a punishment mission.”

Skaði avoided optic contact. “As so long as we follow the mission criteria, we will -- “

“Primusdammit, Skaði!” Roadside pounded a fist into the console, cracking the surface. “This is your fault we’re here!”

Only Magazine noticed Brontes had ceased singing. The medic, taking another casual sip of the lukewarm sub-grade energon, checked his peripheral; as suspected, Roadside’s outburst brought the attention of the rest of the squad, all huddled at the entryway in a poor attempt to appear inconspicuous to their eavesdropping.

Skaði allowed for the interruption, and, while outwardly keeping his composure, averted his gaze. “Nothing happened,” he punctuated, “between myself and our commander.”

“I’m your commander now!” Roadside roared. “Because Arty did a runner and got his aft vaped in the process!”

“We have no official proof of his death,” Skaði retorted. “Nor did he ‘do a runner’. The Sky Commander, during the briefing, made it clear that … our former commander … had left on his orders.”

“What, that melodramatic performance about how Art blah blah blah -- for frag’s sake, Skaði! Starscream’s a paranoid, conniving, backstabbing spawn of a glitch who only sees this mission as tying up loose ends! It’s a win-win for him and only him!”

“Which is why,” now Skaði turned to face his irate commander, “I’ve been broadcasting a coded beacon. The Sky Commander would not bring up the former commander unless there was reason. Also, we were scheduled for mandatory volunteer services.” 

Roadside flinched. “Say what?!”

“The Sky Commander sent us on this mission to stall the cull,” Skaði explained, exacerbated. “We will use this opportunity to give our notice.”

Shaking his immediate shock, Roadside then scowled in staredown of the chief technician. “Going rogue.”

“In so few words.”

“And the DJD?”

“We’re already written off as dead by going on this mission.”

“And the boss’s part in this?”

Skaði grinned; Magazine, interest piqued, scooted closer, narrowly avoiding the rest of the squad crashing onto the bridge as their own curiosity got the better of them. “The Sky Commander will receive a beacon,” the technician explained, returning his attention to his console, “with a report of a false positive, the ruins already scavenged, and a request to return, which will be either acknowledged with an order for standby or ignored altogether. The coded beacon I mentioned previously is on an encrypted channel, had it not been received, would have yielded a negative ping. Which -- “ Skaði swiped the smaller screen towards Roadside, “ -- is not the case.”

“That -- “ Roadside furrowed his brow, the “Transmission Connecting” label blinking on the mapping programme. “Is that -- “

“Our commander,” Skaði continued, “will meet us at the Capella Station on the return trip, where we will then continue to Kethys and meet with our proxy for the next step.”

“There’s no way Starscream would allow this unless -- “

“He’s hedging his bets,” Magazine interrupted, tossing the empty beverage container into the hold. “Regardless whether or not he thinks Arty and Skaði were out checking each other’s oil, Screamer wouldn’t waste the resources.”

Skaði, satisfied that he could resume his work, allowed the medic to take over the narrative.

“That’s ridiculous,” Roadside scoffed. “There’s no way -- “

“Here me out.” Magazine leaned forward, lacing his fingers together with elbows on knees. “Isn’t exactly a state secret that he hates the fact Thunderwing and Bludgeon are allowed their pet projects while he’s stuck with a tight leash with energy surveys. ‘Sorry, Thunders, but the volunteers were killed in a survey expedition. Better luck next time.’”

“That...that actually makes some sense….” the squat ‘Con rubbed his chin.

“So we get to walk, meet up with Arty, and bomb around the universe with new aliases, until Screamer needs a shiv up his gauntlet.” Waving a hand at Skaði, Magazine added. “This proxy -- Darxtar? He’s a spook. Knows how to keep you from getting K-classed, keeps you off the List. We go Genericon for a bit, lay low...win-win.”

Roadside vented hard. “We’re putting a lot of faith in this.”

“What have we got to lose?” Magazine smirked. 

“I could think of a few critical systems,” Roadside tapped the fuel gauge once more.

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://succwave.tumblr.com/post/165151864422/a-commission-for-cavalierconvoy-and-skidblast)   
> 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Continuity notes:  
> Using information from interviews with Simon Furman  
> IDW time unit of 1 stellar cycle = 7.5 months  
> Lambda Scorpii (Shaula) is the star that Cybertron orbits; all travel and distance centers around this star as opposed to Sol  
> Vector Sigma's Pulse: the pulse that reset Cybertron to make it hospitable in 2011, a universally accepted signal of when the Cybertronian War ended.
> 
> Fan characters and notes:  
> Surveyor: Formula One Off Road Vehicle. Created by Skidblast.  
> Artemis: hybrid pursuit/urban utility vehicle. Created by Cavalierconvoy.  
> The crew of EK074 were brainstormed between the two creators.  
> Roadside: second in command, demolitions expert. Heavy-duty mine sweeper.  
> Skaði: Chief Technician. Vosnian Seeker.  
> Magazine and Lockstock: Field Medic and Assistant Technician, respectively. Combine into a highpowered sniper rifle (with Lockstock as the primary component; Magazine is the stabilizer, scope, and extra firepower.)  
> Gunrun: combat engineer and scout. ATV which Magazine and Lockstock can mount to for mobility.  
> Brontes: Heavy ordinance. Hovertank/seige engine. Unofficial morale officer.  
> Astrados: Communications. Officially a triplechanger as both an airborne and landbased mobile communications vehicle as well as root mode, Astrados can also form an air-to-surface personnel carrier and two other modes that while he claims make him a six-changer, the other two modes are a jumble of disjointed limbs that serve no other purpose but intimidation and a hammock.
> 
> Artemis is using male pronouns in this chapter because she has not begun her transition at this point in her history; as this is part of her character development, the decision was made to keep that part of her history in the narrative.


End file.
